REVIEW: Mike Tyson’s Black Energy Drink (Poland)

I guess you could do worse than Mike Tyson as your product spokesperson. Granted there was that whole sex crime conviction and he did rip a guy’s ear off with his teeth and he did threaten to eat a guy’s children. But still. Spokesmen have been known to do worse.

I’m sure we all remember back in late 90s when the Jolly Green Giant rolled his Pontiac Fiero in the desert outside Reno after a four day meth bender. Sure he survived relatively unharmed, but sadly his diminutive life companion Sprout did not. The trial was sad and left the giant a broken man. And the next morning’s New York Times headline didn’t help his state of mind, mocking his beloved Jingle. “Ho, ho, ho! Maaaanslaughter. ”

Then it came to light that the only things Poppin’ Fresh was poppin’ were handfuls of OxyContin.

And I don’t even want to mention when Mr. Peanut’s fetish video surfaced.

Though I’m sure none of us were very surprised when Cap’n Crunch stabbed that guy outside of that Hooters in San Bernardino.

I used to be a Mike Tyson fan. When I was a kid, I loved him. Sure, I’d never seen him in a real life boxing match, nor had I ever heard him speak. But he was about the toughest NES boss I’d ever come across at that point in my life. That’s gotta count for something.

I guess my first real falling out with ol’ Iron Mike came in 1990 when he lost the title to Buster Douglas. Again, I hadn’t seen a second of that fight (like my mom would ever let me get anything on Pay-Per-View). All I knew was that I’d been looking forward to Tyson refereeing a match between the then-heroic Hulk Hogan and the then-alive Macho King Randy Savage on Saturday Night’s Main Event, and now I would have to watch a boxing champion referee who didn’t star in a video game I’d been playing for years! What a disappointment.

Since then, like most of the world, I’ve watched with mild interest (and pity), Tyson’s slow descent from the God of Punching to a guy who just sort of floats around in the pop culture ether, showing up in stuff every once in a while.

And what better stop on that weird downward spiral than a stint as a peddler for this Polish energy drink.

Mike Tyson’s Black Energy.

First off, I like the can design. Simple and straightforward. Mike’s face tattoo is not something you’ll miss on a shelf. And a quick scan of the ingredients list reveals my new favorite drink ingredient: “aroma.”

Popping the top revealed a very Red Bullesque (Red Bullian?) nosegrope. Underwhelming. I was hoping “aroma” was going to be champion sweat.

The drink itself is the color of my pee when I realize I haven’t had a liquid other than coffee in a few days. I was really hoping it was going to be intensely black. The drink. Not my pee.

Although…

I don’t know what I was expecting this to taste like. Mike Tyson with part of Evander Holyfield’s ear in his mouth was at the front of my mind. All of those Polish jokes I’ve heard old people tell, in the back of my mind. I was hoping for some intensely foul craziness. But Mike Tyson’s Black Energy just tastes like Red Bull, though maybe not quite as sharp. Disappointing in the grand scheme, but I do like the Red Bull.

If you’re in Poland, I recommend picking up a can, if for no other reason than to have it on a shelf in your cubicle. Because why wouldn’t you?

Yet another disgusting energy drink that is just a toned down version of crystal methamphetamine. At least have the common decency to follow in the tradition of tequila having a worm in the bottle and put in a gummy version of Holyfield’s earlobe.